


Crimson

by allthebeautifulthings9828



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fallen Castiel, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Holding Hands, Human Castiel, Impala Feels, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, POV Castiel, Romantic Fluff, Schmoop, Subtle Romance, Sunsets, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthebeautifulthings9828/pseuds/allthebeautifulthings9828
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel indulges in one of his new human interests, watching sunsets, but Dean interrupts him with mindless chatter. It occurs to him as he's watching Dean that he is afraid of stillness and quiet. But why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crimson

Each state had a different sky. Scientifically, it wasn't the sky but the pollutants in the air that made a patch of sky over Missouri look different than a patch of sky over Montana. Some shades of blue turned deeper like the sea, while others veered toward watery gray.

Castiel learned how the human eye filtered color this way. It wasn't nearly as complicated as the way he viewed the universe through angel eyes. No mechanisms of nature. No molecules or atoms. No cycle of vegetation taking in carbon dioxide and feeding oxygen to the planet.

Just color. Sometimes nourishing droplets of moisture.

He appreciated the simpler beauty in life, yet regretted that other angels couldn't see the artistry in God's work on Earth the way he did.

But nothing compared to the sun setting each night. True, he knew it was nothing more than his place on the planet spinning away from the sun for half of the rotation cycle, but as a human man, he increasingly viewed it as something more poetic. He felt nature's cycle in a way that he couldn't quite explain yet. With each dip of the sun below the horizon, accumulated bad energy throughout the day washed clean from everything around him. The night cleansed the planet.

Sometimes Castiel stole a beer from Dean's stash and sat on the hood of the Impala to watch the sun retire for the night. He didn't always have time though. Cases didn't wait for his ritual, and he soon realized that he was a creature of habit. He liked beer more than he expected as well.

Nothing compared to the northern Kansas sky though. Maybe he was partial to that patch of the planet because Sam and Dean were born there, but the sky seemed so much larger, so full of possibilities.

Castiel sat cross-legged on the hood of the Impala nursing a beer and enjoying the sensation of feeling small in the universe. Blended purples and blues washed the sky above him and a few stars already twinkled as if watching over people, while pinks, oranges, and golds flooded over the western horizon where the sun had just disappeared. Twilight was his favorite hour. It straddled the light and dark, the two worlds existing together for just a few minutes. Yes, he enjoyed the idea of opposite worlds blending together.

"Dude, don't dent my hood."

Behind the car, Castiel turned and watched Dean's wide set legs strolling toward him.

"Sammy's looking for you," said Dean, leaning near the left headlight.

"I'll be there in a minute." Castiel sucked a mouthful of beer in his mouth.

Dean studied him in silence, completely oblivious to the ever-changing sunset ahead of him. "What are you doing out here by yourself?"

Castiel pointed his beer bottle toward the horizon.

Briefly, Dean glanced at the sky. "This is where you go every night?"

"Not every night, Dean. Sometimes it rains. I believe it'll snow here in a few months too," he replied quietly.

"Yeah, we get snow." Dean shuffled slightly. He appeared uncomfortable with the stillness. Silence tensed his face like a threat. Green eyes shifted around the trees. "Hey, did I tell you we found handcuffs with Enochian stuff in the dunge--"

"--Dean."

"What?"

Castiel's calmness, his thoughtful blue eyes passed over Dean's face. "Be still."

The dying sunlight turned crimson behind Dean as Castiel looked at him, which brought out a hundred freckles he'd never noticed before. Dean blinked, uncertain, and flecks of gold reflected in his eyes. He fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve for a minute, and then grabbed the beer bottle out of Castiel's hand. Most of the liquid rippled down his throat before Castiel could lodge any kind of protest.

"I was thinking about picking up a few steaks for tomorrow night," he said as if thumbing through possible conversation starters in his head to fill the silence.

Castiel chuckled to himself and stuck his hand under his chin, his elbow braced on his thigh. "You can't do it, can you, Dean?"

"Do what?" Casually, he leaned an elbow back on the car.

"Be still with yourself. Listen to your thoughts, or the insects settling for the night, or that freight train due to roll by at eight-thirty."

Dean scowled. "What freight train? There's no train here."

"Yes, there is. It runs south that way. You have to listen for it," he replied with a finger pointed in the direction of the nightly train.

Shrugging, Dean's gaze turned toward the horizon, though Castiel could plainly tell he wasn't really looking at it. "Ehh, I don't like quiet much. I've always got shit to do. Music is too invigorating to ignore too, you know?"

"Sure."

The former angel's response sounded noncommittal and he meant it that way, head planted on his hand in thought. That phrase of 'feeling it in his bones' occurred to Castiel then as he began to understand something about Dean that perhaps the hunter himself never meant to reveal. The blackening sky steadily covered them in a blanket for the night and Castiel silently studied the contours of Dean's weathered profile. He didn't seem too aware of it as he absently peeled the corner of the label off the beer bottle.

"You're afraid," Castiel said, the words tumbling out suddenly.

Dean glanced back at him and his eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Of...?"

The time came to go inside, Castiel decided, unfolding his legs and sliding off the hood of the Impala. He stood and stretched his spine into a curve and his arms over his head. Joints popped and it felt amazing, but Dean's tense presence beside him demanded an answer. They met eyes and Castiel's mouth thinly smiled for him.

"You're afraid to be still and listen," he explained. "No longer blocking out yourself means hearing things in here that you like to pretend aren't there." In passing, on a whim, Castiel squeezed his hand as he headed back to the bunker. "It's okay, Dean. Perhaps one day."


End file.
